TMNT--His Duty
by DisneyBeatleTurtlefan94
Summary: When Donatello becomes ill with a mysterious flu, how will the gang take care of their sick, purple-clad genius? Read to find out! Hurt/Comfort story: titled "Infected" on dA (tmntloverxoxo) Enjoy!


Scarred and battered by their previous encounter with their new-found nemesis, The Shredder, the turtles returned to the depths of the leaky, sludgy sewer that they blissfully called home. Of course, it was a sewer and everything- meaning that it certainly wasn't the cleanest place in the world. Though it was the turtles' sanctuary, it continued to serve its intended purpose: cycling and recycling the city's flushed away sewage and feces. Constantly, the sewer floor was dripping wet- filmed with unsanitary toilet water and leaking, crashed car oil that would seep through the manhole covers on the city's surface. Not to mention how poor the insulation was, and how the boys in green had to endure the harsh wind as howled through their living room during the winter season. Considering this, along with his open wounds and weak immune system, it would only be too easy for Donatello to become susceptible to the contraction of high-risk diseases.

Tucked in bed, shivering thunderously beneath the thick covers Master Splinter laid over him, Donatello incoherently moaned and groaned while his brothers watched him anxiously.

"Is he gonna be alright, Sensei," Michelangelo asked with a frown.

"I am afraid it is too soon to tell, my son," Master Splinter replied sadly as he placed his this, bony hand on his ill son's forehead.

Startled by his father's ice-cold touch to his burning hot forehead, Donatello shuddered beneath his blankets as he mumbled feverishly.

_"mmMph-w-wha',who'smm-ermph..."_

"Raphael," Splinter whispered, "Quickly- douse a thick wash cloth in cold water, and then bring to me."

"Hai, Sensei," Raphael replied with a nod as he sprinted to the kitchen.

Leonardo and Michelangelo looked wearily at each other, and then at poor Donatello who rested helplessly on the sofa next to them. They looked at the beads of sweat that began to emerge from his forehead as his fever climbed; making his cheeks burn bright red through his forest green complexion. They noticed his half-closed brown eyes peering dizzily up and the ceiling: glassy and unfocused, as he continued to whimper inaudibly. Leo then guided his attention over to Master Splinter as he kneeled before his ailing son- with tears starting to form in his steel blue eyes as he watched his father's do the same. As he sighed tiredly, Master Slinter jolted when he found his eldest son's hand resting on his frail shoulder.

"Father," Leo muttered in hushed tones, "It'll be okay. Don'll pull through: he's tough...like you raised us to be."

Smiling subtly, Master Splinter rose to his feet as he gently patted Leonardo's head in approval.

"Got the washcloth, Sensei," Raph cried as he ran into the room with a purple rag resting inside a class bowl filled to the brim with water.

"Well done, my son," Splinter exclaimed as he took the bowl.

Carefully, the old rat rested the bowl on the Maplewood coffee table. He then sat down on the recliner next to the couch where Donnie resided, took the sopping wet wash cloth out of the bowl, and wrung it out until it was just barely damp. With great precision, Splinter began to fold the rag into a perfect rectangle. As he extended his long arm towards his son's burning forehead, Master Splinter rested the rag atop it like a frozen hamburger patty would on a flaming hot grill.

"This should calm the fever," Splinter said quietly, "Now we must let him rest."

"T-that's it," Raphael exclaimed concernedly, "C'mon, there's gotta be _something_ we can do for him, Sensei-"

"Perhaps with the proper antibiotics, Raphael," Splinter intruded as he gestured towards the purple clad turtle, "But we do not have access to such necessities. I have done what I could with my traditional remedies, and now all that is left for Donatello is hope. Now- it is a late hour, and before **you three **become ill, as well, it is time to rest your souls...It is partly because your brother did not often heed this order that he has become so ill in the first place."

It was true: Donnie was a night owl if there ever was one. Last one asleep, first one awake- that was Donatello! Nighttime was his point of deepest inspiration: leaving room for about two hours of sleep before the day began. Sleep, to Donatello, was a waste of time. He would push and push...until he finally couldn't push anymore.

As they looked at their brother, and then back at each other, the turtles slowly turned to their respectable hallways as they headed for bed. Until, all of a sudden... Leonardo stopped. Turning back, he gazed upon his little brother; coughing and groggy with infection. He couldn't just leave him...he just _couldn't._

Walking back towards the couch, Leonardo placed his left hand on the comforter where Donatello's plastron heaved heavily beneath it and his right hand on the pillow that cushioned his sick brother's aching head. A solid frown stained his face as he viewed the scratches that impaled Don's right cheek beneath the tan band aid. His blue eyes told a story of worry and fear for his brother's health and existence- with a pure, unadulterated gaze composed of both love and concern.

"Leonardo?"

Leo jumped as he jolted quickly around to find his sensei standing right behind him cocking a weary eyebrow as if to say, _'I thought I told you to go to bed.'_

"Sensei," Leo uttered, his voice shaky with emotion, "Please. I need to make sure he's alright. I...I'm his big brother...i-it's my duty."

Touched by his eldest son's maturity and affection, the wise rat responded.

"And I have _always_ taught you to honor your duties, my son."

After rubbing Leonardo's head, Master Splinter smiled as he took to his bed chamber: leaving Leonardo to be the leader he had raised him to be. However, it was when the wise rodent exited the room that something strange happened with Donatello.

_"N-no...__**NO!**__ D-don't hurt them, please- Please!"_

All of a sudden, Donnie was in a mad panic! His head tossed and turned against this pillow as his whole body perspired in a cold sweat, and quaked with violent shivers. Leo knew it: Don was having a fever dream—or worse...a fever _nightmare._

"Don, _Donnie,_" Leo cried as he gently shook his brother awake, "I-it's okay, bro- it's okay! Wake up... **Wake up!**"

Jolting himself awake from his twisted nightmare, Donatello panted breathlessly as he gazzed groggily around the room. Still in a feverish daze, Donnie peered cross-eyed at Leonardo as he tried to explain his dream in a series of incoherent babbles.

_"I-I...y-y-you...M-m-mikey, a-an'Raph: w-we...we, a-and Shredder-"_

"It's alright, Don," Leo hushed soothingly, "Just a bad dream. _You're_ fine, _we're_ fine- It's gonna be okay. Just lie back down, and go back to sleep-"

"N-n-not after _that_ dream," Donnie intruded as he jittered, "I-I just... I just _can't,_ Leo..."

"Listen," Leo suggested as he sat down on the recliner next to Don's couch, "How about I spend the night right here?"

"Y-you mean," Donnie said with a cough, "Y-you'd sleep in that little chair...all **night?"**

Smiling widely, Leo nodded as he flipped up the foot rest. Grinning meekly at first, Donnie's smile faded into a detestable frown.

"Aw, but Leo," Don dictated hoarsely, "You need a proper night's sleep! I mean, c'mon, a _recliner_? ...Y-you need a bed, you need-"

"What I need," Leo replied, "Is to make sure you're okay. When Splinter made me the leader, he put me in charge of you guys: your health, your welfare...your _life._ So, it's no use trying to argue, Donatello, cuz I-"

Leo stopped short, only to hear quiet snores coming from Donatello as he drifted back to sleep. Chuckling to himself, Leonardo just watched as his tired little brother finally got the rest he deserved: keeping a constant vigil of him that entire night just in case another fever dream occurred. It was his duty, after all.


End file.
